


Hot Stuff/Nice Butt

by maiNuoire



Series: Sterek Valentine's Day Candy Heart Prompts [12]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bar, Deputy Stiles Stilinski, First Meetings, M/M, Stiles to the rescue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-18
Updated: 2016-02-18
Packaged: 2018-05-21 13:39:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6053620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maiNuoire/pseuds/maiNuoire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles spots Derek being hit on uncomfortably and saves the day!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hot Stuff/Nice Butt

**Author's Note:**

> I am considering expanding this story of "how we met" into a whole verse, complete with awkward meet the family dinners and lots of sexy times, depending on the reaction/feedback to this (and, if I'm honest most of these Valentine prompts are likely to be expanded at some point, but the feedback will determine what gets prioritized)
> 
> As always, your kudos and comments are so very appreciated, I have gotten some really lovely feedback, and I love you all for taking the time to let me know you enjoy what I write <3

  
The blonde was a couple years past too old for the median demographic of the bar, still attractive but out of place. And definitely not in the same league as the gorgeous Greek god she was trying to get her flirt on with.   
  
The man was simply stunning, all dark hair and artful stubble, thick, expressive eyebrows and soft looking lips. A dark leather jacket hugging broad muscled shoulders, tight jeans; the total package, and Stiles wanted to  _ unwrap _ him. He was beautiful. And clearly zero percent interested in picking up what blondie was putting down.   
  
The hottie in leather is clearly trying to get rid of the cougar, but having no success, and looking increasingly uncomfortable as the minutes go by. Stiles moves a little closer, can just hear the ridiculous -and frankly pathetic- litany of come ons she's simpering at him. “...Or lick it,” the man winces, and Stiles decides that it's time for a rescue mission, because that beautiful face should never look so pained.   
  
Stiles moves through the crowd around the bar, dancing and weaving through the crush of bodies, returning the occasional smile, ignoring the less occasional overt leer and uninvited pat on the behind. He knows he's got a nice butt, but right now the only one he wants squeezing it is waiting on a certain deputy to come to his rescue, and Stiles is not going to be deterred (even by an adorable guy with a mop of curly hair and a lopsided grin.)   
  
As Stiles finally approaches tall, dark and gorgeous, he overhears the blonde attempt to purr at him, a weird combination of scary and off putting as she leans in and runs a finger down the man's chest. “C’mon, hot stuff, why don't you just-”   
  
“Hey babe,” Stiles says, purposely letting his words slur the tiniest bit as he slides into the small space between the creepy cougar and the embodiment of every fantasy he has ever had, their arms brushing slightly and sending a tingle of warmth through Stiles. He looks at the man, a sincere smile on his face and tries to communicate his totally altruistic intentions to the guy with a series of blinks and eyebrow wriggles.   
  
It must work, because the man smiles back at him, which renders him momentarily stupid, because  _ holy crap is he stunning when he smiles _ , and to his surprise (and joy) intertwines their fingers, raises their joined hands to his lips and places a quick kiss to Stiles’ knuckles, “Hey, you, I was wondering when you were going to lose patience with me and track me down.”   
  
The woman makes a choked sound, and Stiles can't help but lay it on a little thicker. “You know me, too long without my boo by my side, and I get antsy. Plus,  _ some people _ don't know how to keep their hands to themselves,” he darts a glance at the blonde, the sour look on her face immensely satisfying. “I mean, out there, on the dance floor, everyone acts like they have a right to your body. Looks at you like your strung up in a sex dungeon, it's just wrong. Don't ya think,  _ ma’am _ ?” Stiles looks at her with a wide grin, and wiggles his fingers at her in a sarcastic wave as she leaves in a huff.   
  
He laughs triumphantly, the other man joining him, and the sound is like music in Stiles’ ear. “Sorry about the fake boyfriend thing, man, but that lady was clearly not taking the hint, and you looked like you could use a hand,” Stiles realizes then that they're still holding hands, and regretfully the other man does too, and they both pull their respective limbs back into their own space.   
  
“No, no. I really appreciate it,  _ babe _ . She was… a lot to handle,” the man smiles at him, and Stiles ignores the little thrill the endearment and that smile send through him. “I'm Derek, thanks for the rescue-”   
  
“Oh, Stiles. Call me Stiles. And you are very welcome, Derek. I mean, that lady wasn't wrong, you are hot like burning, but she was super creepy,” Stiles slaps a hand over his mouth as the content of that particular ramble processes through his brain. “Oh, god, can we pretend I didn't say that?”   
  
Derek laughs, and it's still one of the greatest things Stiles has ever heard. “You heard that one, huh? I don't even think that was the worst line she used, man. It was painful.”   
  
“Well then, I'm glad I braved the groping masses to come to your rescue.” Stiles grins, and there's  _ something _ shimmering between them, a potential that's almost tangible.   
  
“As much as I agree that people should keep their hands to themselves unless invited to touch, I almost can't blame them. I mean, you do have a nice butt,” Derek's grin and wink make Stiles feel weak in the knees.   
  
“Oh, you think so? Just when did you see my butt, hot stuff?” The flirty banter is quickly becoming a problem for Stiles’ tight pants.   
  
Derek smiles and looks him up and down appraisingly, Stiles shivers. “It's possible that I was putting up with blondie because this spot on the bar had an excellent view of the dance floor. Where a certain hot guy with whiskey eyes and a Batman belt buckle,” he taps the buckle, and it does not help the growing situation in Stiles’ pants, “has been driving me absolutely crazy with his dance moves all night.”   
  
Stiles gulps, and feels a hot flush of arousal rise to color his cheeks. He'd be embarrassed, except that two spots of color dot Derek's cheeks, and a blush dusts his ears. “Well, if you want to thank me properly, how about a dance?”    
  
The warm chuckle and Derek's warmer hand settling on Stiles’ hip bring a matching heat to Stiles’ belly. “Just a dance?” Derek asks, a mischievous glint in his -what color are those, even?- eyes.   
  
Stiles starts walking backwards, toward the dance floor, grabbing Derek by the hands as he does, a smirk curling his lips. “We'll see, hot stuff.”   


**Author's Note:**

> Come see me on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/poetry-protest-pornography)!


End file.
